


Like A Plea Of A God

by adrift_me



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-DotO, Purple Prose, Smut, Softcore Porn, poetry prose, vague smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-04 01:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12760428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: Making love to a former god, especially one so cryptic and vague as the Outsider, is poetry and bliss on its own.Like a plea of a god. He prays like a sinner, he prays like a sinless, he begs to ascend, and at some moment he can see the black of the Void and the white of non-existence.





	Like A Plea Of A God

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I wrote purple prose stuff, so here's a very vague almost description-less smut, requested by lovely [nork](http://wanderingnork.tumblr.com/) <3
> 
> [Come chat with me on tumblr :) I also happily take prompts!](https://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/)

_ “Corvo…” _

His voice like a sigh on the wind, weightless. It runs through the air and falls on Corvo’s lips when he leans in. A word that burns, a word that ignites blood, embers churning blood in lively veins. A kiss to become eternal, because this is what you get for kissing a former god.

The Outsider’s eyes are watching. Green irises, fearful, darken when pupils grow nearly as wide. Almost as black as they used to be when he was a god. No more. Now they move slowly, scared a little, staring at Corvo whose own gaze wanders lustfully and reverently over a pale sharp face, over a slim fragile figure, over all the places that are open only to him, and he treasures, he worships, he makes love to them. His fingers employ skill and tease, learning every spot that shivers under them, torturing every bundle of nerves with caress.

Mouths open, touching barely, lips over lips, gasps in a gasp. The Outsider’s eyes close for a moment, black eyelashes ticklish, fluttering. He tastes Corvo’s mouth, and the taste is of love and odd sweetness of flesh. Smooth and wet and alive. All that moves are their tongues for a while, dripping saliva into each other, dripping love like poison. When the taste goes away, his eyes fly open again. They are seeking reassurance for he knows what is about to happen, his body open, prepared, vulnerable a little. Soft shushing pours in his ears, warmth nuzzling close to his face, mutters and promises of care.

And for a moment his eyes close again, squeezed tight, and a sigh escapes his lips, a sigh that flows into a moan, and a moan makes him look up at Corvo to see if he is doing it right and to let him know that he feels good. He is filled to the brim, he is complete and already breaking, hips up and restless. That moment, when Corvo loosens him and fills up again, he feels like he ascended to godhood once more.

Green irises blacken, darken, sliding up as the Outsider rolls his eyes. Every nerve set on fire, every thought burnt out of his mind and every noise muffled because all he hears is Corvo’s shattering voice and his own melding together. 

_ “Corvo…” _

Like a sigh of an ocean. He expands, his chest swelling as he tries to breath, beating and crushing against enormous weight that would be rocks for the waves and Corvo’s chest to his. He whimpers, prolonged like the song of the whales, and moans like the howl of a wind. His teeth sink in lips, first his own, then those that come crushing to his mouth to destroy him. And he moans in them, cries in them, begs for them. Corvo complies, his every sway like a wash of an ocean wave, coming to fulfillment, a tide. 

Desperate hands rake and bruise his back, sharp fingers pushing hard into rough scarred skin. Hands that hold onto what’s dear. And other hands that caress, that sooth by a touch, that slip fingers to where they are bitten. The Outsider’s mouth knows only two things when he forgets how to exist, that is to sound and to taste, and he does both, moans vibrating through a rough thumb, the tip of a tongue wet and trying.

_ “Corvo…” _

Like a gasp of a storm, breaking, broken, shattered and building up over the horizon. The Outsider’s eyes run fever, hectic and moving wildly. His head turns to the sides and his eyes are now closed, trickling tears and brows furrowing. His gasps are disordered, sudden like the rolls of a thunder. His eyes roll again, and his mouth spills blasphemy, and his body thrashes even as a great passionate weight holds it down, holds it in, presses it in and decimates it from within. He cries out and rolls voice in lustful moans and even swears, sounds painting his lips with saliva and making his cheeks hot and red. And what spills from a former god’s mouth a mortal picks up with a tongue, licks it off and swallows.

_ “Corvo…” _

Like a plea of a god. He prays like a sinner, he prays like a sinless, he begs to ascend, and at some moment he can see the black of the Void and the white of non-existence. Sizzling hot his body burns down to ashes and he forgets who is at all. The syllables of a name, repeated time over and over again, get lost in a choked sob, and he spills and spills and breaks down and his body loses all semblance of sanity, tossing about and restless as unimaginable tides of pleasure crash him from within.

And another force, just as hectic and uncontrollable, Corvo shudders and shatters, overwhelmed. With one heavy sway that he can’t stop, he is spent and destroyed, thrown straight to where he can gasp his god’s name in love and reverence and kiss the god’s mouth as the god pleases.

_ “Corvo…” _

A whisper of the Void. 

_ “Corvo…” _


End file.
